Finlay heard nothing from within the chamber. Kyla had been inside for quite some time now. He bent his ear to the door, but there were still no sounds from within. Worried for her, he turned the knob and opened it, only to find the chamber inside empty. He stepped into the room before noticing the open door leading to the next chamber. His pulse sped up. Was there a guard inside that room? Was Kyla in trouble?
“Kyla?” he called out, moving toward the inner door.
Just as he reached it, Kyla stepped out from the other chamber, acting in complete control. Davina followed her. Both lasses ignored him. Kyla turned to her new acquaintance and said, “I promise to talk to your sire, see if I can do anything to help. My thanks for your hospitality.”
Davina nodded. “And I promise to send you a message if I learn aught about his intentions for Clan Grant.”
Finlay placed his hand on Kyla’s back, urging her toward the door. “I suspect our laird is awaiting your return.”
Kyla glanced back over her shoulder, her expression a bit wistful, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d spoken of with the lass. Had she succeeded in her mission? The apparent friendship between the lasses made him suspect she had.
Glenn of Buchan met them outside the door to the tower as promised, his guard standing at the ready with his sword. “Did she share aught with you?” the older man asked. “Did you explain to her that I only want what’s best for her and for me?”
“She did share with me, my lord,” Kyla said. “She showed me her daughter. You have a beautiful grandbairn.” The words sent a little jolt through Finlay. Davina had a child? Kyla twirled her hair—a sure sign of nerves—and he kept his reassuring hand on her back.
What did the man expect of his daughter? Wouldn’t she be busy enough with her new babe? She was of noble blood, a daughter of the laird. It would be unusual for her to be put to work.
“Aye, ‘tis true, she is a beauty.” A quick look of joy passed over his face, but his eyes soon narrowed. “Can you not see how daft she is? Did you convince her to do her sire’s bidding, as any good daughter should?”
Kyla lifted her gaze and squared her shoulders. “I could see that she is not daft at all. She only requests to be left alone to raise her daughter.”
The Buchan laird exploded, yanking his sword from its scabbard and slamming the blade down hard on a stone bench nearby, the noise echoing down the passageway, an act of uncontrolled anger.
Finlay instantly stepped in front of Kyla to protect her, one hand shoving her behind him and the other yanking on the hilt of his sword. “Stand back,” he bellowed to Buchan. “Laird or not, you’ll not lay a hand on her.”
Glenn’s lips curled as he spoke. “I’ll not hurt her, but she must understand what should be happening.”
“You’ll mind your tone with her, as well. She’s the Grant’s daughter and offered to help out of the goodness of her heart. I’ll remind you of that. See if you can find a morsel of your Highland honor buried inside you.” Finlay was furious, but he reminded himself to maintain his control. The Buchan had failed to do so, and the situation could quickly become dangerous if he were not careful.
Glenn’s voice came out in a near growl. “My daughter is to do what I bid her to do. That is not too much to ask. I need her for an important task.” He re-sheathed his sword, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Go. Go from my castle and never return.” His voice turned into a growl that caught Finlay’s attention. “Gather your kin and get off my land.”
As soon as Buchan put his sword away, Finlay did the same, but he would not let Kyla move out from behind him. “We’ll leave now,” he said. “This was meant to be a peaceful visit. Do not change it into something you do not wish to bring down on yourself.”
Buchan snorted, his face turning a deep shade of red. “You Grants are all the same. Guard, lead them back to the hall and escort the rest of the pigs off my land.”
They followed the guard and Finlay hauled Kyla behind him, her steps struggling to keep up with his fast pace. She grabbed his elbow and whispered, “I’d like to speak to him again.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his jaw clenched. He admired her courage and tenacity, but there were men who would not listen to the truth, no matter how it was delivered. Buchan was beyond the point of reason. “It’ll not bring aught good to this. We leave now. This man is ready to lose his patience with you, Kyla. We’ll leave their land. I promised to return you to your sire, and I intend to keep my word.”
Once they knew their way, Finlay rushed her down the passageway and into the great hall. He stopped at the trestle table full of Grant guards and said, “We’ve been ordered off Buchan land.”
The two guards behind Finlay barked in unison, “Now.” One of them added, “We will see you off.”
Logan Ramsay shot Kyla a curious glance, but he must have decided questions could wait because he fell in on one side of his niece while Finlay continued to guard the other. They headed to the stables like that, Jamie leading the way.
“Do not stop until we are off their land,” Finlay whispered to his friend. “Kyla, you’ll be riding with me.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he held his hand up. “You’ll not win in this. I’m charged to protect you, and a man drew his sword on you. You’ll ride with me.”
Logan eyes narrowed, and he said, “You ride with him or me, lass. Take your pick.”
Kyla followed Finlay to his horse, making her choice. “Must you be so demanding?”
“Do not argue until we’re off this land, or I may have to throttle you. That man back there is ready to slice both of us in two. At least he’ll have to go through me to get to you.”
Fortunately, she held her tongue. Once all of the Grant warriors had mounted their horses and moved out through the gate, they were able to speak. The Buchan guards followed them at too great a distance for their voices to be overheard.
Kyla turned her head back to him. “If you had heard all Davina said, you’d understand why ‘twas important for me to try to gain the Buchan’s agreement to leave his daughter be to care for her child.”
“I’ll not argue with you, but safety comes first. Dead bodies don’t do much convincing that I’ve ever seen. He had lost control.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed it, away from the view of her brothers and uncle. “Forgive me. I was unable to think with a clear head. I’m still shocked by what I learned from Davina.”
His voice softened. “Your heart is as big as your mother’s. Everyone knows it, even Glenn of Buchan did. ‘Tis a fine quality to have.” He slipped his hand away from hers and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her closer. Hell, if she didn’t feel just fine where she was.
His laird’s voice brought him back to their present circumstances, so he dropped his hand, only to have Kyla find it and put it back on her waist. He concealed his smirk and gave his full attention to Jamie.
“Care to expand on your instructions, Finlay?” Jamie asked. “What happened?”
Finlay replied over his shoulder, “I will when we’re off their land. Glenn of Buchan seems eager to use his sword on someone, and it’ll not be Kyla or me.”
“Just ride,” Logan shouted to Jamie.
Two hours later, the guards trailing them disappeared and headed back to Buchan land. Logan gave the sign for their group to keep riding, then motioned for them to stop at the next clearing they reached. Finlay dismounted and helped Kyla down, but she immediately stalked off into the forest.
Logan gave him a questioning look—one he didn’t quite know how to answer—then indicated they were to gather on a group of logs. “Over there. Tell me what happened before you head into the woods so I know what to do with the guards.”
Jamie sent Connor off. “Keep an eye out for Kyla.”
The rest sought to take care of their needs.
“What in the hell happened?” Logan said, pacing around the clearing. “I trusted Kyla to make the situation better, not worse.”
Jamie said, “Let’s wait for her. I’d like to hear her explanation.”
She joined them a few moments later, an answer to her uncle’s question already on her lips. “Uncle Logan, I did naught wrong.”
“Nay, she didn’t,” Finlay cut in.
Logan held his hand up to Finlay, his gaze on Kyla. “Continue. I wish to hear your entire tale.”
Kyla sighed and replied, “Glenn allowed me to speak to Davina alone. He thinks she’s gone daft, and asked me to convince her that he has her best interests in mind.”
Jamie barked, “Where the hell were you, MacNicol?”
“Outside the door,” Finlay said. “I checked the chamber. Davina was alone, so I chose to guard from just outside the door.”
“You do recall ‘tis my sister you guard?” Jamie asked. “Aye ‘twas what we agreed to with the Buchan, but I trusted you to know better.”
“I said I’d guard her with my life and I did.” He crossed his arms as if to add emphasis to his words.
“Continue, Kyla,” Logan said in a tone that brooked no refusal.
She glanced at Jamie and Finlay before speaking. “Once I was inside, Davina introduced me to her daughter.”
“Daughter?” Connor blurted out as soon as he joined them. Logan’s glare silenced him.
“Aye, she has a daughter by Ranulf. She adores the bairn, and her dearest wish is to be left to care for her daughter.”
Logan began to pace, his hands behind his back. “But?”
“Her sire chooses her men, and he’s chosen a new one for her.”
Logan stopped his pacing, apparently as shocked by this revelation as the others were. “He chooses her men?” he repeated.
No wonder Kyla had been so desperate to push Glenn of Buchan. Unfortunately, the grizzled laird was not the kind of man who would listen to reason. This was why she was still angry; why her eyes kept darting back toward Buchan Castle as they rode even further away.
“Aye, and he has been doing so since she turned ten and six. Do you have any idea what that would be like for a lass? Imagine Papa sending Elizabeth off with a man to gain that man’s favor in battle.”
Her words fell like a heavy stone in the middle of the clearing. Finlay had difficulty understanding how a father could treat his daughter so crudely, but he waited, knowing how upset Kyla had been when she’d come away from that tower. There was more.
She continued, her voice lowering as if she feared there were gremlins in the woods listening. “He’s ordered her to be Simon de La Porte’s mistress.”
Finlay let out the breath he’d been holding. That statement explained everything. Kyla had wished to stay and talk to Buchan more. She’d probably hoped to convince him his actions were wrong—an impossible task with a man like him. No one moved, everyone still absorbing the information she had just revealed. Jamie jerked his gaze from Kyla to Logan, apparently waiting for his uncle’s reaction.
Logan Ramsay’s voice came out in barely a whisper, “Well done, Kyla. You’ve done what no one else could do.” His gaze traveled from face to face. “Now we know where the bastard is.”
“You think he’s on Buchan land now?” Jamie asked.
“I do. If not, he’ll be there soon.” Logan continued to stare at Kyla for a few moments before he turned to Finlay. “Explain why this upset Buchan.”
“Uncle, I can tell you,” Kyla said.
“Nay, I’ll hear it from the one who told us to move out without hesitation.” His hand motioned to Finlay to continue.
“Once outside the tower room, Glenn asked Kyla what he needed to do to gain Davina’s acquiescence, and Kyla told him all Davina wished to do was take care of her daughter.”
“There must have been more to it than that…”
“He wished for me to declare her daft,” Kyla burst out, “and I said she was not.”
Finlay nodded in agreement. “And he exploded, pulling his sword from its sheath and striking any place he could. He was too close to Kyla for my comfort, so I pulled out my own weapon to protect her. He didn’t take to aught we did from then on. Just continued on about a daughter needing to do her sire’s bidding. I did not understand him at the time, but now I do.”
“What do you mean?” Connor asked.
“He wants Simon de La Porte to do his bidding, but my guess is the lout made Davina a condition of his agreement with Buchan. Davina is refusing. No Davina, no assistance.”
“It makes sense,” Logan said. “No doubt, he’s also offered him plenty of coin, something Buchan seems to have in abundance.”
“We have to help her, Uncle,” Kyla pleaded.
Uncle Logan paced two more lengths of the clearing before he announced, “The rest of you see to your needs and mount up. We’ll not rest until we’re closer to Grant land. Buchan is becoming unsettled and we must be careful. Kyla, I understand your concern, but we do not have the warriors to help her at this point. Molly and Tormod were unable to locate de La Porte in the castle, so he may not be there yet. I sent them to Edinburgh to speak with our king.”
“And I know my sire’s view on the matter,” Jamie said. “We’ll not attack until we know for certes that de La Porte is there and we have our king’s permission to move forward. Hopefully, Molly and Tormod have found him and obtained that permission.”
“Sorry, Kyla, but he’s correct. We wait.”
***
Uncle Logan decided they’d camp for one night before returning to the Grant castle. Kyla sat on a boulder by the burn, her legs tucked close to her body so she could rest her chin on her knees, her hands underneath her chin. The sound of water tumbling down the stream and over the rocks calmed her insides, something she desperately needed. Her stomach had churned ever since Davina had mentioned Simon de La Porte. The war she had hoped to allay was beginning to seem inevitable.
“Kyla? May I join you?” Finlay’s bootfalls crackled in the twigs and grass behind her.
She glanced up at him and nodded, setting her legs down so they fell over the edge of the boulder, a position she was sure her mother would prefer she adopted around a man. She patted a spot and Finlay hopped down next to her.
“Aught wrong?”
“Nay.” She stared at the babbling water, mesmerized by the rhythmic sound and movement. She couldn’t take her mind off the woman who’d been given to different men by her own father.
The look he gave her seemed to radiate warmth. “You did the best you could. I have naught but admiration for the way you stood up for your beliefs, not giving in to your fear of the Buchan.”
Finlay’s eyes were a cross between brown and red, she realized, almost like his hair. Predominately brown, they had auburn flecks in them that she loved.
“Are you sure there’s naught wrong?” he asked, quirking his brow at her. Then a huge grin spread across his face. “Aye, ‘tis true. I am the most handsome of all. I’m sure ‘tis why you stare at me so.”
She giggled and reached for his hand, though her mother would for certes not approve of that. “My thanks for protecting me against the fool.” She knew he was speaking in jest, but she could almost agree with him. He was one of the most handsome warriors in all of Clan Grant.
A fleeting memory crossed her mind: Sorcha telling her about how her perception of Cailean had suddenly changed—he’d gone from being one of the Ramsay warriors to her Ramsay warrior. Was this how it happened? Something so simple and ordinary?
He intertwined his fingers with hers and settled her hand on his lap, rubbing the back of it with the thumb of his other hand. “I was only doing my job.”
Finlay was a bit of mystery to her. His humor confused her at times—it was hard to tell when he was serious and when he wasn’t. But the heat of his gaze told her he was serious at the moment.
“I know, I know, you’re my protector.” She rolled her eyes, giving the last word a special emphasis.
He laughed, pulling her hand up to his lips and kissing the tender skin there, a move she hadn’t expected at all. When she glanced up at him in surprise, his eyes darkened and he said, “I know you wish to return to save her, but your brother and uncle are correct. This is not the right time. Your protector would not allow it.”
“When is the right time? When will we be able to go back and get her?”
“I don’t think you need to worry about Davina. After all Buchan has lost, I doubt he’ll hurt her. He’s lost two sons already.”
“Mayhap you are correct. But what if Simon de La Porte forces himself on her? What if he hurts her? Or worse, what if either of them hurt that sweet bairn? I cannot get Davina and the babe out of my mind.” She stared at their interlocked hands, amazed at how strong his felt, how warm, how pleasing, enough so that she didn’t wish to remove hers.
“Whatever happens, ‘tis not your fault. Davina is a strong woman. She had to be in order to survive all the Buchans have been through. I would wager she is more than capable of caring for herself.”
“Mayhap ‘tis all true, but the Buchan is such a monster. Who would do such a thing to his own daughter? I cannot get past it. Thank the Lord above for my sire and my mama.”
She reached to the ground and picked up a few sticks, twirling them in her hand, breaking them into pieces before she tossed them into the burn, listening to them hit the water. She could feel Finlay’s gaze on her, but it made her feel…strange, and she didn’t know what to do about that either. This mission was supposed to give her power. Instead, she felt more powerless than ever.
“I have to go back. Mayhap not now…I do understand the wisdom of waiting until I have guards with me. After seeing the fury in his eyes when he pulled on his sword, I knew I needed to exercise more caution than I do at home, but…” She tossed another stick into the water.
“But?”
Suddenly, she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to do, to act, to let out some of this turbulent emotion boiling up inside her. Kyla shot off the rock, moving toward the water, and grabbed at the stones at the water’s edge. Then she flung them into the rolling stream as hard as she could, so hard that she lost her footing, tipping toward the stream, and would have landed in the middle of it but for a pair of warm hands that wrapped around her waist and turned her away from the stream.
She fell against Finlay, and he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling. She couldn’t help but grab his waist to anchor herself, and her head fell against his chest.
They both froze in that position, both because she couldn’t believe how she’d latched on to him so easily and because she had no desire to let go. The night was a wee bit cool and he warmed her from her chest down to her very core, sending a strange and alluring tingling through her.
She pushed away from him and sought his gaze, wanting to see how their embrace had affected him. Her posture had stiffened, and so had his. “My thanks for catching me.” She cleared her throat, not knowing what else to say at the moment.
“You’re angry,” he said.
“Aye. I’m angry that someone would treat their own kin the way the Buchan treats Davina. He has no concern for his daughter at all.” She wiped her hands down the wool of the tunic that she’d worn over breeches for this trip.
Finlay’s expression was most serious. He set her away from him and dropped his hands, but his eyes never left her. Finally, he said, “Kyla, if I can find a way to protect you, I’ll take you back.”
“You will?” She was astonished at what he’d volunteered to do for her.
He blushed and said, “Aye, but only if I’m sure I can keep you safe.”
She stood on the tips of her toes and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Finlay.”
Her breasts flattened against his chest, and they swelled in response to his nearness. When she pulled back, his gaze had darkened and he made a strange, husky sound. Without thinking, she moistened her lips with her tongue, and his lips settled on hers before she could even think about pulling back. He teased her with his tongue until she opened to him, parting her lips. Suddenly, her instinct to pull away shifted to desire. He angled his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss, and she leaned in, wanting more.
She’d kissed a few guards before, but never before had a kiss left her with such a craving for more. The sensation of his tongue against hers rocked her to her core, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Finlay growled, a low sound from deep inside that made her feel both seductive and cherished as he sucked on her tongue. He pulled away so suddenly she almost fell against him, but he caught her and righted her, taking the opportunity to nibble on her lower lip before he let her go.
Then, for some strange, unknown reason, he dropped his hands and scowled before he spun on his heel and hurried off, leaving her panting in the middle of the forest. Her fingers came up to feel her swollen lips as if she wished to be certain she hadn’t imagined their short encounter. The taste of him, the scent of him, the warmth and strength of his embrace were now seared in her mind forever.
Why had he run off?
Everything about her relationship with Finlay MacNicol had just changed dramatically.